Help yourself to the blond fields, to the tractor rattle.A querulous jay was placed on that fire-stripped oakjust for you. Likewise, the clouds were inflatedand that jet trail scratched across the empty bluethis very morning. Do you like the hint of woodsmoke?And those telephone poles at the horizon?Nice touches, I think. They make it all true.Listen to that ragged cock's crow—that was my idea.Doesn't it bring everything into balance?And those shovels—if you dig under any rock,you will find we have created mysteries:bits of bone and bead that don't belong,hieroglyphs in languages more than dead,idols to a very cleverly conceived array of gods,if I do say so myself. You could spend a lifetimedecoding the suggestions we have left behind,and I assure you it would be worth it.Of course, we have taken signs off someof the roads, and made the odd stair stepuneven. And one day, when you least expect it,you will find that leaf-covered bodyin the woods, dent in the skull, underweararound the neck. But absolutely nothinghas been left to chance. There is no randomnesshere, nothing less than eighty-seven percentmeaningful. Every dragonfly and hailstonehas been calibrated precisely to your taste.

Stephen O’Connor

Stephen O’Connor has published three books: Rescue (fiction and poetry), Will My Name Be Shouted Out? (memoir) and Orphan Trains (history). He teaches in the writing MFA programs of Columbia and Sarah Lawrence.

Recommend

Additional Information

ISSN

1548-9930

Print ISSN

0191-1961

Pages

p. 98

Launched on MUSE

2008-01-03

Open Access

No

Project MUSE Mission

Project MUSE promotes the creation and dissemination of essential humanities and social science resources through collaboration with libraries, publishers, and scholars worldwide. Forged from a partnership between a university press and a library, Project MUSE is a trusted part of the academic and scholarly community it serves.